


Lost in Space

by rotorhead



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Masturbation, Piercings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:35:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22071136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotorhead/pseuds/rotorhead
Summary: Overlord's been ditched on the far side of the galaxy after a mission and wants a ride back home. The accommodations are less then stellar so he finds a way to keep himself amused.Solo Overlord
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18
Collections: Secret Solenoid '19-'20





	Lost in Space

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThunderTitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThunderTitty/gifts).



> This is for TTSS 19, for ThunderTitty on twiter.

Overlord sauntered to the captain’s chair of his newly acquired space freighter, tapping the controls on the armrest to make it more comfortable for a mech his size. Then draped himself over the seat, lounging with his feet on the pitifully small control desk as the hard locked time to destination pinged on the main screen. The organic crew should have been in stasis for what would have been a long journey for their fleshy forms. 

Pity they never made it to the cryo chambers. They weren’t even a challenge, merchants never were. The only thing even mildly inconveniencing was the destination could not be changed without restarting the ship’s entire computer system. Which would alert the freighter's parent company/ planet and would get someone sent out to see what had happened. 

Or he could just let the autopilot engage and take him to wherever it was going and then acquire a more formidable and steerable ship when it reached it’s destination. But that was a long while out. This pathetic little freighter didn’t even have a warp or a jump drive. It was barely an upgrade from flying himself.

The number on the screen ticked down until it was interrupted by an auto queued command to shutdown. At the same time, the life support for the organic crew cycled down to save power, lights dimming and the temperature dropping. Not that it was much of a bother after cruising the void of space in his alt mode. More of an annoyance, like everything else about this pathetic ship.

The organic residue on his hands and chest congealed in the diminished temperatures and he paused from his internal monologue to look at the foul red substance coating his digits. Nasty, Iron rich and would probably make him corrode. With a sneer he flicked his wrist to the side, splattering the walls of the command center with with a few more red flecks.

Disgusting stuff, organic fluids. 

He would have to see if this ship had a wash rack of some sort. Proper ships had a data feed that would provide those on it with a floor plan of important features. Perhaps he could hack the controller so he could pull up the ships specifications. This ship was an outdated model operated by a species that couldn’t have been space faring for very long. He could probably hack the whole thing and change the course if he really wanted to.

But that would require effort and really, the whole point of a mech that had a space travel capable form, riding on a spaceship was to minimize effort.

Overlord turned in the chair, setting both feet on the ground. Maybe later he would hack the control system and see what was going on in the system or to crank the engines to max and force deplete the fuel clusters. He didn’t care if the ship could never be used again, it was one of the joys of hijacking ships. But right now… right now he was aware of the slight trickle of air from the vents brushing against his dermis. The minor pressure flux felt nice after the void of space.

Overlord licked his ample lips then ran a hand down his front, focusing on the feel of his fingers ghosting over his frame. The delicate, barely there caress on a mid section seam made his vents hitch and his valve clench. 

Oh yes. 

This was also a perk of a space faring form as well, the input starved dermal sensors amplifying every little thing after a long run in space. His optics unfocused as his fingers grazed the his codpiece, the slight touch making his neural net fire and burn as it tried to deduce if the contact would happen again.

Perhaps he was a bit eager and even wanting. It had been a long time since his last mission that landed him on the far side of the galaxy without a transport back. 

It was almost like Megatron wanted to forget about him.

He couldn’t let that happen, now could he.

With a chortle, Overlord brought his thick fingers to a gap in his thigh armor and retrieved a mnemosugery needle. The slender rod was wicked sharp and reserved for just this purpose. 

Although it had been awhile since he had to resort to self service. There was usually a mech willing to do whatever Overlord could think of to be “spared”. 

He rolled the needle between his thumb and forefinger for a moment, watching the instrument twirl as the chill of the metal warmed slightly with his touch. Overlord propped a foot on the laughably small desk that strained under the weight and dialed down his optical input. Bringing up a mental image of a slender framed mech with the needles equipped on his fingers. Of the slight smirk and dark laugh as the needles danced over his heated frame. 

Blindly, Overlord tilted his hand and rolled the needle in his fingers again, letting the tip dance over his lap. Caressing his thigh before grazing his spike cover. The minuscule inputs having his sensor net reach out as the needled rolled back. Refusing to look where it contacted him focusing on the mental image of the small mech.

Of laying on a slab with his optic dialed so low he couldn’t see anything more than blurred shapes. The anticipation part of the building charge as the needles slowly traced down his frame. One hand starting at his shoulder mount and the other joining in at his hip.  
The trail of warmth making his sensor net reach out, feeling the mech beside him but not where his hands would go next.

The needle tip nipped the mech flesh right above his interface cover and he arced, exhaling as his spike pressurized, cover opening to unleash his eager spike to the mercy of the pendulating needle. 

The memory of the hands closing in on his spike, one dancing on his thigh, the other, his lower abdomen. The cool metal and the sharp nips of not quite pain circling ever closer to his aroused member. 

Overlord arched, spike tip brushing against the smooth metal and pushing it away.

The sensor memory of the tiny yet supple fingers tap dancing on the base of his spike in a hypnotic rhythm. The minuscule pricks making his valve clench as a knot tightened in his belly.  
He thrust up, needing to increase the maddeningly small contact and only received a disappointed and chastising sound from the mech. 

The needle swung back against his thigh, the tip barely grazing and leaving a wonderfully eager sensor net in its wake before tapping the spike and rolling to the other thigh. 

“If you don’t hold still, I’ll have to punish you.” The small mech had said. He was left to squirm on the slam. Vents pouring out heat as the silence egged on. Then it was the fingers every so delicately picking up his weeping spike, smearing the beads of leaking transfluid over the swollen head. Then twisting it and impaling a needle just behind the ridge of the spike head.

The needle tip caught on his spike near the base and the sudden sting brought him to overload in time with the memory. 

Optics powering up, Overlord jabbed the needle the rest of the way through the base of his shaft. Then grabbed a hold of his spike and worked it roughly. The clash of sensations, the pain of the needle and heavy kneading of his spike, made his vents sputter to keep up with the change in pace. Running his thumb over the tip and the scar of the long healed piercing he overloaded again.

Overlord fumbled through the desk, not finding what he wanted. So he smashed the monitor and roughly yanked out a cord of bare copper. Removing the needle and inserting the length of wire to make a new piercing. He ran his hand over his softening member, pinkie toying with the new hardware.

Perhaps this trip would be enjoyable after all.


End file.
